"marmoreal" poems
for years I have felt of stone
pale, grey-veined marble untouched by bare hands
separated by barriers tangible and otherwise
my skin was lusting for the heat of humanity
I missed you the way a stillborn misses the intake of breath
until the day you invited me into your bed and
took a chisel to my heart and head
these cracks run deep
you can be found in the magma below my belly button
the pure pumice coming from between my lips
I may have jagged ridges with the power to cut
because I am viscous yet
may you dance through these fractures like water and soften my edges
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
I wish to comb the now distant Eden
Adopting Penelope's marble poise
To find her marvelling Polaris' freedom
Not questioning her heart, unlike my words.
Vaulted abaft* her marmoreal* shoulders
Chiliad* tales won, your silhouette
Decorticating* off African suns.
Oil lamp explorer, icy caves your lamp
Cannot warm; There are paths to cross with will,
Verdant* bridges constellated* with time.
Yet you, Inexhaustible human heart,
Beat with love. You gravedigger of the sky,
Estranged Love, brave forevermore the Afar,
Beyond the doubts of your enduring Heart.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
You raise your hand as if poking the sun
The best memory you have comes to mind
A small smile creeps onto your face
Clouds of summer soothe your soul
And in their marmoreal curves
You wish to join them
Soft alabaster over the hills and the city
Takes you back to kind thoughts
Oh how I wish you were here
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
these words mean nothing without you to say
"will you please speak like a lady?"
and i probably would
if i could,
[but your silence
is like an unfamiliar hand pressed
closely against
my marmoreal skin
leaving nothing]
but
mouth-shaped bruises on my thighs and
questions on my tongue and
unaddressed letters on my bedside table
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Marmoreal slide astro kiss
Shalt thou be succulent to mine aching tongue?
I needeth thee now lonesome one
Where art thou as me?
For tis no dream do I long for,
I pant to needing true amour'
I sit at Nahum's door
Waiting to be let into the megalopolitan
To skyscrape her eye's
To seeith into this angelic soul.....
I seeketh gold!!!
Not silver
For one to keepeth me on their leash,
Not noone else to be their dog.....
To skip to high grog......
A utopian of believing one another. ...
Not sleeping in dreams,
But awake to each other's reality!!!!
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Tonight
two men told me they love me:
One wanted something he was struggling to find
and had never matched hearts with mine before
The other gouged my heart little more than a year ago
and of whose most basic need I took care of
[water]
without any hesitation
in a home unfamiliar to both of us,
the first time in each other’s true company
since our dolorous unravelment.
“I love you.”
Neither reflected genuine inclinations, nor hint of veracity
Meant absolutely nothing by it
Both of which rendered me wearily calling out to the abysmal sky
only to be left in marmoreal stillness
and evanesce into the shadow
cast by the waning moon.
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
The poem comes with the rays of the sun,
reflecting from the river water
that dances in frolic and fun.
Poet’s thought, beyond his imagination,
with cosmic energy, always passes,
from the moon of marmoreal smoothness
across planets sheathed in verdure grasses.
And then the poem speaks in the dark night
readying for its fresh sprouting
from the poet’s fertile mind.
Silently, without crying and shouting,
a river of words flows
from his as yet dried pen,
whose waves become its lifeline,
surrounding him like heaven.
Then, the poet writes a poem
on a child’s blank mind,
wiping his pearly tears,
to make him a human, so kind.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
A petal
sticks to its peduncle,
glossy and turgid
a proud connection
dipping a dew drops
on a thorn
on the branch
of a rose plant.
the thorn
sharp
yet vigilant
protects petal's
pristine glory
of marmoreal smoothness.
yet
the dried peduncle
breaks
plaintively
the next fall
and the desiccated branch
gives a prickly touch
in a thorny hedge
in my backyard
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC